Final Call IV: When Worlds End
by Tooner
Summary: The world is in chaos. Alex Reist rules over all with an iron fist. However, in the barren lands of Centra, the survivors of Garden are assembling and training. Soon, they will be forced to fight the final battle for the freedom of all. Final Call IV.
1. Awakening

FINAL CALL IV: WHEN WORLDS END  
  
  
((It has been way too long, everyone. Enjoy, piece by piece. I'll put forth all effort not to dissapoint. The usual. Everything not of my own creative material belongs to Squaresoft.))  
  
  
Peter Animus was happy. His mother and father were alive and well, and he was happy, playing in the Quad at Balamb Garden. Everything was at peace, his friends, Alex and Julia, and the older Neos, whom they all looked up to, and all followed in the double-dares and risk-taking of childhood. He was six, and at the perfect age for innocence.  
  
Off in the distance, he could hear a voice calling him. It was familiar, not too deep, but definitely a man's voice.  
  
"Peter!"  
  
Peter turned and looked in the direction of the voice.  
  
"Peter!"  
  
He frowned.  
  
"PETER!"  
  
  
***  
  
  
Peter Animus jolted upright and looked around. He couldn't see anything. He felt a draft on his body, and threw his hands down onto himself... he was completely nude, and part of his body was submerged in some liquid.  
  
Where am I?  
  
His eyes slowly began to work. He could make out a few thin outlines of objects, and in a few minutes, he was able to see rather clearly, a bit blurred, but for the most part clear.  
  
He slowly, painfully, turned his head to his left, then to his right, which gave him another start. A cloaked figure sat in a chair beside him, the face completely disguised.  
  
"HYNE! Who are you?"  
  
The man responded, "I cannot divulge that information, needless to say that I am a friend."  
  
"Of who?"  
  
"Of your father's."  
  
That pleased Peter enough, "Where am I?"  
  
"You are in an underground facility in Balamb."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You were knocked unconscious and bought here, a 'sleep chamber'. Here, you have no knowledge of the outside world, only your dreams."  
  
"How long...?"  
  
"Three months."  
  
Peter coughed, "Three months?"  
  
The figure pulled out a robe, and handed it to Peter, "A lot has happened, Peter Animus. A lot has happened."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Peter huddled himself up against the wall, now dressed slightly in the dark robe, his teeth chattering slightly from the cold. The other man was down on one knee, looking Peter in the face, or, so Peter assumed. The robe the figure was wearing managed to conceal his face in shadows.  
  
Peter sighed, "Okay, so, what happened?"  
  
The man nodded, "It's a lot of information, but I'll tell you what I can." He stood up and turned away from Peter, "Shortly after the destruction of Balamb and Balamb Garden, Alex Reist launched a full assault on the Galbadian Continent." He turned back, "It was sickening. Alex pulled troops seemingly out of thin air, and just threw everything at defenseless towns like Winhill. Then, he gave a slow, painful death to Dollet. Slow for him of course. It was his longest attack- three days. He just pummeled them, boats with guns, firing at the town. Finally, when the place was on fire, he waltzed in with his soldiers, put out the blaze, and declared himself the ruler. Then, he used the trains to take Timber, sending troops in boxcars right into the heart of the city."  
  
Peter shook his head.  
  
"Then, with dominance over the continents of Balamb and Galbadia, he made his move on Trabia. He used missiles. We don't know where they came from, or where they are now, but Trabia Garden was hit for the second time in history. This time- it was leveled. No survivors. Fourteen hundred people were killed. Eight hundred of those were under the age of twelve. Then, he trounced the Shumi Tribe, shelling the building, and destroying the tranquil area. The Shumi are still around, but under strict military control. All statues of Laguna there were destroyed. Finally, he moved to Esthar. This was two months ago. Of course, by this time, the Esthar army had mobilized somewhat, but they experienced consistant failures in any attempt, and they finally failed totally, when missile attacks destroyed parts of the town, then forced the surrender of the country, when the Ragnorak III was shot down as it attempted to evacuate the president. Alex walked in, declared himself the ruler of the world, and his army has military rule over every place in the world."  
  
Peter looked up, "What about Centra?"  
  
"Well you see, that's the catch. Alex considers Centra worthless land, and thus, that's his largest mistake."  
  
"Because resistance groups can use it as a base of operations, right?"  
  
"If they can get there, yeah."  
  
"Okay, new question. How is everyone?"  
  
The man shook his head, "Very few bodies have been recovered."   
  
"My father?"  
  
The man shook his head, "Your father's body was never found. Most likely incinerated. Nor were Neos or Julia Leonheart's. Veronica is also confirmed dead"  
  
Peter's head sagged, and there was a silence between them for a few moments. Finally, Peter looked up, "What about the others?"  
  
"Everyone in Balamb was killed. Zell, Irvine, Selphie, everyone. However, those on Galbadia Garden during Balamb Garden's destruction managed to get out. Lance Derikson is currently leading a large resistance group in Centra. He united with the White SeeDs, and they are formulating plans as we speak. Squall and Rinoa left Winhill shortly before the attack, and are currently in a location that I cannot reveal."  
  
"Anyone else?"  
  
"Nothing that we can be sure of."  
  
"Okay… so where are we?"  
  
"We are underground in the Balamb Military Island."  
  
"Military Island?"  
  
"Yes, Alex has turned this island into a military base."  
  
"Oh… great! So how do we get out of here?"  
  
"That robe you wear is an exact replica of those worn by Alex's military officers. Keep it on, and follow my lead. We're going to Centra."  
  
"What's in Centra?"  
  
"Your training."  
  
"My… training?"  
  
"Yes, we've got to band together and fight Alex Reist. We have to defeat him."  
  
"Well, of course, so let's go do it."  
  
"Oh no, you made a mistake before and tried to fight Alex with your gun. Foolish methods like that will not work against a full-powered sorcerer. You must be trained in the most effective art."  
  
"Sorcery? Hate to tell you, but a sorcerer I am not."  
  
"No… gunblade use."  
  
"The gunblade?"  
  
"Of course. The gunblade is the most effective weapon against anyone powered with sorcery. Squall Leonheart knew this. Miles Animus knew this. Now, you must know this."  
  
Peter shook his head, "I dunno."  
  
"It is for the good of the world."  
  
"Can I?"  
  
"You'll have to. But enough. First we must get out of here."  
  
Peter nodded, "Right. What's the plan?"  
  
"We get a boat."  
  
"Right… how?"  
  
Peter couldn't see the man's face, but it looked like he was smiling as he spoke, "The robes. We'll just walk up to them and sail away."  
  
Peter rolled his eyes, "Nice plan… hey, what's your name anyway?"  
  
The man hesitated, "For now… Magister will do."  
  
"Magister?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Peter shrugged and followed 'Magister'  
  
  
***  
  
  
Magister led Peter swiftly through the base. His pace was calm, relaxed, and perfect. It drew no attention whatsoever. Peter still felt nervous; they could be killed just for being there. However, the outfits seemed to do the trick. Guards dared not question them, and officers just didn't care. It wasn't until they reached the docks that they encountered a problem.  
  
Magister had spotted a nice little boat. One that would get them to Centra, but wouldn't attract much attention. Unfortunately, the young guard by the boat adhered to policy.  
  
"Good evening, sirs."  
  
Magister responded quickly, "Evening." Peter just nodded.  
  
The guard gave a slight smile, obviously trying to seem friendly before saying something that might be upsetting, "If you're planning on using the boat, I'll need to see your authorization."  
  
Magister firmly replied, "This is a delicate situation, we are forced to use verbal authorization, I am afraid."  
  
The guard frowned, "Verbal? I'm sorry, sir, I'll have to call this in to General Bellemont."  
  
Peter was ready to panic, but Magister took it in stride. He responded, sounding a bit frustrated, "Bellemont? He gave us the authorization."  
  
The guard almost panicked himself, but held it together, "Sir, I'm just doing my job, and in this situation, I am required to contact the General."  
  
Magister took in a breath, "I understand that this is your job, and you're doing it well. However, in this case, you're going to just have to go with it."  
  
The guard hesitated, but reached for the phone, "Sorry, sir…"  
  
Magister threw his hand onto the phone, "Listen! If you make that call, you're going to waste my time. I don't have time for you to waste demonstrating your incompetence in the chain of command. You do this, and people will die. As we speak, the threat grows. Do you REALLY want to be responsible for innocent deaths?"  
  
That did it. The guard swallowed and motioned them on. Both moved through without another word. 


	2. Training

Peter sat silently on the brick. It hurt, but he dared not complain. There wasn't a seat around to sit on anyway. No, the house was bare. Him and this "Magister" figure were in Edea's house, restored slightly and expanded; now housing the resistance against Alex Reist and his empire. However, furniture wasn't a top priority, and a series of cinderblocks and planks accomplished the purpose.  
  
Magister was speaking now, about Peter's training, and the steps that must be followed. Peter was pretty upset with the whole deal. As far as he was concerned, he was set to go.  
  
But, Magister insisted, and Peter decided it was for the best anyway. He snapped out of his longing for a chair, and managed to catch the last part of Magister's little intro, "…conditioning."  
  
Magister nodded towards Peter, and if Peter could see his face under the cloak, he would have seen a wide grin. Peter simply smiled and nodded like an idiot.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"COME ON! KEEP UP THE PACE!"  
  
Peter gasped in a breath as he used whatever energy he had left lifting his legs and moving them forward. This was unexpected. He tried desperately to remember how long he had been running, but it was far out of his reach. It must have been about sixteen kilometers so far. His breath was short, and his legs felt like lead weights, but that freak Magister was still going.  
  
With another pant and a desperate gasp for air, Peter dragged up his legs again, leaping over a fallen tree. They were running in the woods, which made things that much more complicated. And according to Magister, this was only the light jog.  
Every part of his body felt like it was on fire. He had never worked this hard in his life- and he prayed he never would again.  
  
Finally, a few hundred yards later, Magister stopped and turned around. Peter would have grinned if he could, but instead threw his hands to his knees and bent over, desperately gasping for air. After a bit of this, he just collapsed on the ground. Magister hovered over him, shaking his cloaked head.  
  
That was the other thing that really struck Peter. The guy ran in a cloak, and still was perfectly fine.  
  
Magister sighed a bit, "If you get tired after a sixteen k run, you're never going to win when it comes down to you and Reist."  
  
Normally, Peter would have something to say in return, but he was too busy trying to breath. Suddenly, Magister yanked him up off the ground, "C'mon, we've gotta run back now."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Later that night, Peter was sitting alone in one of the center's smaller rooms, huddled in the corner with a roll of bread and water, occasionally tearing off a piece of the bread and scarfing it down. He was in that position when Lance Derikson stepped into the room.  
  
Peter hadn't seen Lance since they were on Galbadia Garden when Balamb was destroyed. He grinned wildly at the sight of his old friend and ran up, embracing him.  
  
"How's it going, Lance?"  
  
Lance allowed a small grin, "It's alright. Better now that you're here."  
  
Peter laughed, "What?"  
  
"You're a morale booster. Most of these guys fighting were Garden students under your father. It's a great boost to have you around."  
  
Peter nodded, "Yeah, well… don't get your hopes up about me."  
  
Lance looked at the small meal, "You know, we DO have actual food here."  
  
Peter smiled, "Yeah, but I don't know how much I can take after today."  
  
"What? The sixteen-kilometer run? C'mon man, that's nothing!"  
  
Peter coughed, "It was thirty-two kilometers."  
  
"Okay, so… double nothing."  
  
"Maybe to you."  
  
Lance smiled, "You'll get used to it. You'll have to."  
  
  
***  
  
  
"This next exercise will test your accuracy with a gun."  
  
Peter stifled a laugh, "I'm one of the best, remember?"  
  
Magister gave a nod, still in the cloak, but then moved toward Peter and held out a gun. A simple pistol, but attached was a nine-kilogram weight. Peter frowned, "What's with the weight?"  
  
"Your gun is going to be a gunblade, the dynamics of firing are entirely different. A whole new form of muscle control is required."  
  
Magister handed it to him, and Peter gripped it, his arm dropping slightly from the weight. Magister gave a laugh, "Not as easy as it seems, eh?"  
  
Peter grimaced and held up the weapon, supporting it with both hands. Magister interrupted, "You're going to need to learn how to do that with one hand."  
  
Peter nodded, and dropped the left hand, struggling to hold it with the right.  
  
"Peter, if you want, we can do some weight lifting first, if the nine kilograms is giving you trouble…"  
  
Peter made a face, aimed at the paper target about one hundred yards off, and fired. He lowered the gun as Magister raised up the binoculars and took a look out.  
  
"Well," Magister began, "I'm sure you were a great shot."  
  
Peter frowned.  
  
"But," Magister continued, "there isn't a single bullet hole there."  
  
Peter cursed and lifted the gun again, firing off a second, third and fourth shot.  
  
"Oh wait. I think the third one grazed the target."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Nope, it didn't."  
  
  
***  
  
  
"This next drill will test your swordplay abilities. Think you're up to it, kid?"  
  
Peter grunted, "Quit calling me 'kid' old man."  
  
Magister laughed, "I'll quit calling you a kid when you become a man." With that, he tossed a small fencing saber to Peter, who caught the handle in his right hand. Magister smiled and pulled another saber from the rack on the wall.  
  
Peter swung the blade a few times, getting a feel for the weapon. Magister stepped towards him.  
  
"There are three rings of defense, Peter. The first, or the outer ring, consists of the upper right, the upper left, the lower right and the lower left. The second, or the middle ring, consists of the high, the low, the left and the right, and when you're within the inner ring, you should keep close and parry. Understood?"  
  
Peter sighed and nodded.  
  
"Okay, attack me."  
  
Peter shrugged and lifted the blade above his head, swinging downwards. Magister effortlessly paralleled the blade to the ground and deflected, sending Peter backwards.  
  
"Middle ring. High. Try again."  
  
Peter twisted around slashing the blade from right to left at Magister's gut. Magister twisted his arms and held the blade perpendicular to the ground, once again blocking the assault.  
  
"Middle ring. Left. C'mon!"  
  
Peter smiled, "Enough of this defense crap, can't we actually DO something?"  
  
Magister laughed again, "If you desire. On your guard!"  
  
Peter lifted the blade and charged, swinging the blade upwards towards Magister's left elbow. Magister leaped backwards and slashed down at the blade, reversing Peter's assault towards the ground. With Peter off of his guard, Magister elbowed the younger man in the face, knocking Animus to the ground. In the last deft movement, he bought the dull blade to Peter's neck.  
  
"Offensives are better when they are successful. And a successful offense requires a working knowledge of defense at the least." With that, Magister turned and walked towards the wall, placing the blade back.  
  
Peter was left catching his breath.  
  
  
***  
  
Lance Derikson couldn't help it. He laughed.  
  
"You're still eating like that, kid?"  
  
Peter looked up from his bread, "Kid?"  
  
"Yeah, that's your nickname 'round here. In case you haven't noticed."  
  
"Magister…"  
  
"Yep. Magister. He insists." Lance sat next to Peter on the cold floor, "I don't know why you're doing this to yourself."  
  
"I'm training. I have to train." There was an easily traceable sarcasm in Peter's voice.  
  
Lance mulled over it for a second, "It'll make you better kid."  
  
"Maybe it will."  
  
"No. It will. You just have to be determined."  
  
"Determined? To go after the guy who stole everything from me? That's not so hard, believe me."  
  
Lance grinned smugly, "Not that. You have to be determined to be ready to go after him."  
  
With that, Lance unceremoniously exited, leaving Peter with only his thoughts.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Come on now! Last kilometer! You can handle it."  
  
He could. Peter had to resist laughing. He actually could handle it. It had taken a long time, but he could finally handle the damned run. As the last stretch came to a close, and Edea's house became visible, Peter slowed down, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. He laughed.  
  
Magister looked down at him, "You did it. I told you it wasn't that hard."  
  
Peter raised his head up, "That was… freaking… easy."  
  
Then he threw up. Magister laughed now.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Confirmed hit."  
  
Peter grinned and fired off the next shot.  
  
"Another hit."  
  
He fired the gun several more times, reloading once. Magister wasn't watching anymore, but watching Peter with interest.  
  
"I think you've got the hang of it now."  
  
Peter grinned, "Don't you want to look at the target again?"  
  
Magister turned and looked through the binoculars. The target was riddled with bullet holes… spelling a large 'HI!'  
  
"Yeah… you've got the hang of it."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Duck!  
  
Peter ducked under as the dull blade flew above his head. He retaliated against Magister with his own assault, swinging from Magister's left side. Magister leaped backwards, narrowly avoiding the attack. Peter had him. Magister was overextended now. He pressed the attack, strafing to his left and staying low as he changed the momentum back and swung the blade in the reverse direction, from Magister's left now. Magister managed to retaliate with a quick perpendicular block, then pushed the blade forward, coming towards Peter's face. Peter snapped his neck back, barely dodging the swing, but knocking himself off balance. He fell to the ground with a thud, and the blade met his throat swiftly.  
  
"You lose, again, Peter. But you put up a fight. You can handle it now."  
  
Peter sighed, "I'll beat you someday."  
  
"You're not the first person to say that to me."  
  
"What happened to the others?"  
  
"They're somewhere six feet beneath the ground. You're ready, though, to make your gunblade. I hope you've got a design planned?"  
  
"Yeah. But can't we get to it already?"  
  
"You've still got a little more left."  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
He still had the nightmares.  
  
It's been a month since I… woke up, or whatever, and they've come to me every night since then. Damn it Peter, get a grip on yourself.  
  
Peter shuffled around in bed. He refused to let himself sleep. He knew what came when he did. However, the mistress of rest held her grip, and Peter collapsed into a world of horror.  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
He was alone, standing in the middle of Balamb. The town was silent, not even the seagulls flew overhead. It was just him. He felt his rifle in his hands, and craned his neck to look around him. Just the still town. Then he turned, and there he was.  
  
Alex Reist, standing fully erect at Peter's height, and staring. Just staring.  
  
Then the crowds. There was no slow introduction. Suddenly, the streets around them were filled with screaming people, running from an unseen terror, and Balamb Garden flew high above them.  
  
And it was on. Peter raised the gun to fire, but he couldn't pull the trigger. Reist continued to stare. And grow. Within seconds, Reist's head was well above Garden, a massive giant threatening to destroy all.  
  
And he did. Alex grabbed Balamb Garden, and crushed it like a tin can, throwing the entire ship into the ocean.  
  
Peter pummeled at Alex's foot with his bare hands, but Alex didn't notice, he merely walked out of Balamb in a single step, Peter hanging on. Then, time froze again. The sounds of the panicked crowd halted. Alex grinned, then lifted his arms. And in a flash, Balamb disappeared in a tremendous display of light.  
  
Peter could only watch in horror as the light rushed towards him, and engulfed him.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Peter Animus jolted upright and buried his face in his hands, tears falling from his eyes. He allowed himself to rock back and forth for a few moments, no one around him waking up. After a few moments, he released his head; his eyes still closed, and took in a deep breath.  
  
"You should forgive yourself."  
  
Peter jumped, "Who's there?"  
  
He caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. The figure spoke softly, "You know."  
  
Peter sighed, "Magister."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Forgive myself?"  
  
"It wasn't your fault."  
  
"You know something, I'll blame myself if I damn well want to."  
  
"You did what you could."  
  
"With no due respect, you weren't there."  
  
"No. I was."  
  
"Prove it."  
  
"We should have this conversation outside."  
  
"Why? You trying to avoid it?"  
  
"I'm trying to avoid waking everyone."  
  
Peter sighed, got a pair of pants on, and walked outside, Magister following.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Okay old man, I've got some problems to settle with you."  
  
"Old man? You don't even know how old I am."  
  
"That would be one of the problems. What the hell is wrong with you that you can't show your face?"  
  
Magister turned away, "I have my reasons."  
  
"Reasons? Fuck, man."  
  
"You know something, kid? I'm sick of your attitude. I'm trying to get you your revenge, and you give me this impatient shit."  
  
"Oh, go to hell. You can't even tell me who you are! And you are giving me a revenge shot? Bullshit, we've been training for a month now!"  
  
"You'd rather die? I'm giving you a shot for success!"  
  
"Then let's fucking take it! Every minute we waste is another minute Alex gets stronger!"  
  
Magister took a few steps away.  
  
"And you know, it, don't you, Magister? You know that we're wasting time."  
  
"We're not wasting time. You think I want us to lose again? I saw the destruction at Balamb, up-close. I don't want to fail again. We'll take our shot when we've got a shot at success."  
  
"Up-close? From where? Some boat on the water? I was there."  
  
"So was I!"  
  
"Then why can't you show your face? We'd love another veteran here, but no, you hide yourself! Fuck man. Friend of my father, you said? My father wouldn't have befriended a coward!"  
  
"Your father…"  
  
"What do you know about my father?"  
  
"A lot more than you!"  
  
Peter had to hold himself back, "Fuck you! How dare you say that! What gives you the right?"  
  
There was a long pause.  
  
"I have the right. Because I…" Magister trailed off.  
  
Peter turned and sighed, "Fuck you. My father would hate for me to waste time like this. Not after what happened to mom. I'm leaving now."  
  
"Your father knows what he is doing!"  
  
Peter halted in his tracks, turning to Magister, "What?"  
  
The cloaked figure turned back to Peter, "I mean… I know what I'm doing."  
  
Then it hit Peter like a freight train, "No…"  
  
Peter watched as Magister removed the hood of the cloak, revealing the face of Miles Animus, scarred and somewhat burnt, but the same man.  
  
"It's me, Peter."  
  
  
***  
  
  
It took about five minutes before any words were spoken. Finally, Peter managed to sputter out a comprehensible sentence.  
  
"Dad, is that… really you?"   
  
"Yeah. It's me."  
  
Peter fell to his knees, tears flowing from his eyes out of joy. Miles stepped over and bent down alongside his son, embracing the younger man.  
  
"Dad, I…"  
  
"I know, Peter."  
  
They remained in the embrace for a few moments, and finally Peter pulled out of his father's grip, and threw a wild punch into Miles' shoulder.  
  
"You bastard!"  
  
Miles merely remained still.  
  
"All this time? You've been hiding who you are? Why?"  
  
"I couldn't reveal myself to you or the others. I was much more useful in death than in life. And I couldn't ruin your training by making it personal."  
  
Peter sighed, "How?"  
  
Miles stood up and put his arm around his son, "Let's go inside, it's freezing out here."  
  
  
***  
  
  
"To this day, I'm not quite sure how I made it out. Neos and I backed into an elevator, away from the bomber, while Veronica remained, trying to negotiate. The elevator was moving downwards when the bomb went off.   
  
"There was the explosion, the alarms, and the elevator was shaking. The cord snapped, and the thing plummeted, it crashed down onto the MD level. Somehow, we survived. Neos was trying to yell something, but I had this ringing in my ears. I looked one way. When I turned back, he was gone, and I was alone in the dark. I took a step forward, and there was another explosion, I suppose it was about fifty yards ahead of me. Anyway, something flew at my head, and I blacked out.   
  
"When I came to, I was alone in the wreckage of Garden. I snuck out, grabbed a disguise, and wound up joining in with a group of other SeeDs. Before I could reveal who I was, they started discussing 'the great Miles Animus' and how they would fight a war to avenge his death, and the death of his wife." Miles paused, "So, I stuck with it, saying I was a friend of Miles' taking a visit at the time.  
"I quickly became a form of legend. A man with the talents of Miles, and a friend, one of the best of the best, and I began to train. I let Lance handle the leadership stuff though. He always was a better speaker." Miles laughed.  
  
Peter nodded, "So what do we really know?" Miles raised an eyebrow, and Peter sighed, "Dad, I'm not stupid. Obviously, there's another reason to keep yourself secret."  
  
"I knew you'd start asking questions."  
  
"Why would that be a bad thing?"  
  
"I know a few things that you shouldn't know."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
Miles sighed. There was no hiding it now. "Neos and Julia are still alive. They're being held in the old D-District Prison, along with a few others."  
  
Peter jumped, "Then what are we doing here? We've gotta go get 'em!"  
  
"This is why you couldn't have known."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're not done yet."  
  
"Not done? Damn it! I've passed all of your goddamn tests!"  
  
"You still have one thing left to do."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"You're a gunblade expert, sure. But you don't have a gunblade."  
  
"You're shitting me, right?"  
  
Miles smiled, "Yeah. We can build one later. Meanwhile, let's go kick some ass."  
  
"Hey, wait a minute. What about you?"  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Where's your weapon?"  
  
"Oh, I've rebuilt the Dual Hyperion." Peter smiled. "Tonight though, we sleep. We move tomorrow." 


	3. The District

Chapter Three: The District  
  
"I understand that I have a lot of explaining to do." Miles cleared his throat and looked out at the crowd, the entire resistance was gathered for this, "The truth is, I don't have much of an explanation. I just saw how inspirational I was to you in death, and realized that I would never be able to live up to that in life. I thought I could do better for the movement as a cause than as a figure," he laughed, "if that makes any sense at all.  
"I want to apologize for keeping this hidden from all of you. It was wrong, and I am sorry."  
Lance Derikson cut in, standing alongside Miles, "But that doesn't matter now. What matters now is that Miles Animus is back!"  
A cheer erupted from the crowd, and Miles shrugged, walking offstage with Lance.  
  
***  
  
Lance flipped through the D-District Prison plans, "Okay, Miles, now you say that Neos and Julia are both being held in this place?"  
"Yeah, I'm not sure which floor though."  
Peter cut in, "Does it matter? If Reist is taking prisoners, then they're our friends. I say we go in, open every door in the place, and go out."  
Lance nodded slightly, "Not the most subtle approach, but I imagine it would get the job done."  
Miles sighed, "Yeah, but I'm not sure how well it would work…"  
"Well, look," Peter said, "we don't know where they are, and I'm willing to bet that everyone in there would gladly help. Not to mention an escape is a lot easier in the midst of a riot than when all is clear. Y'know?"  
Miles nodded, "I understand, it just goes against our tactics so far. Up until now, we've been fighting a silent war, chipping away at points here and there, then sneaking out of the path of danger… this would be a big step."  
Lance nodded, "I don't like to say this Miles, but we have to take that step at some point. And now is as good a point as any. I'm very confident in our abilities. I say we do it!"  
There was a pause, finally Miles nodded, "Okay, its your army after all. But… we can't cause an outright ruckus."  
Lance nodded, "Right, we'd have to sneak in a small team to open everything up and start the riot, then see where it goes."  
Peter drummed his fingers on the table, "So… who?"  
Lance grinned, "This shouldn't be so hard. Three-man team. Peter, I wouldn't dare keep you out of it. Miles, you're the man: always have been. And hey, I wouldn't miss this for the world. So let's get packing. Getting to D-District from here takes about a day by boat, so we should move quickly."  
  
***  
  
"I think I'm going to be sick."  
Miles laughed, "What's the matter, Pete? You don't like boats?"  
The small ship rocked hard, and Peter doubled over, "No, no I don't." He got down on his knees in the corner and just huddled. Miles nodded, leaving the man alone and approaching Lance in the bridge.  
To call it a bridge would be an exaggeration. It was actually just the front of the small vessel. The boats were built to carry an optimal amount of people. Shaped like a pentagon, the boat gave maximum cargo space with optimal amount of speed. Not very good-looking, but it got the job done.  
"Lance, how long?"  
Lance turned to Miles, "A few minutes."  
"Lance," Miles said, moving towards him, "do you have any sort of… official plan?"  
Lance shook his head, "No. We're ad-libbing it, you know that."  
"Yeah, I was just hoping you might have thought of something."  
"Miles, can I ask you a question?"  
"Shoot."  
"Why are you taking the backseat in this whole thing?"  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Why are you letting me have full command? It doesn't make any sense."  
"Because let's face it, Lance, you're a better leader than I am."  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"I mean that you can get these guys motivated better. I'm a lousy speaker, and a mediocre leader."  
"Miles, you led Garden for how long?"  
"And look what happened!"  
There was a pause and Miles cursed under his breath.  
Lance slowly nodded his head, "I understand now."  
"Lance…"  
"You blame yourself."  
There were no words exchanged for a minute. Miles exhaled sharply and turned.  
"Yeah, I blame myself. Happy?"  
"No. I can't believe it."  
"Why not?"  
Lance turned back around, "You got there in a minute and were doing everything it took to save our collective asses."  
"But in the end, nothing I did succeeded."  
"There was little that could have been done, and I'm sure SeeD and everyone who died would have rather died fighting down to the last moment then just sitting around."  
"If I had moved faster…"  
"You moved as fast as you could. Holding yourself responsible for this is going to destroy you, Miles."  
Miles reached behind him, unsheathing the rebuilt Dual Hyperion. He ran his finger along the blade, admiring his handiwork, "Maybe it will, but that won't stop me. It was my fault."  
Lance sighed and turned, "We're here."  
  
***  
  
"Okay, D-District is about ten miles off." Lance looked back to Miles and Peter, "You two up for it?"  
The duo shrugged.  
"We need to make it to the road by dawn. It's midnight now, we've got six hours."  
There was an audible pause, and finally, Peter shrugged, followed up by Miles. They all began the run.  
  
***  
  
When they arrived at the road, there was a dead silence over the area. The sun was just creeping out over the horizon, and a small motor could be heard in the distance. Lance turned to Miles and Peter.  
"Just follow my lead, okay?"  
Peter nodded, "Righto." Miles simply nodded.  
The car approached them, and slowly halted. The driver rolled down the window.  
"Can I help you?"  
Lance nodded, "Yeah, you guys heading for D-District?"  
The driver frowned, "Yes."  
"Great! We're the new team in. Our transport broke down about a mile back."  
"Where are your uniforms?"  
"Back in the car, we'll get everything sorted out at the prison. Can we hitch a ride?"  
The driver stopped and considered, "Wait. Isn't the ocean in that direction?"  
Lance bit his lip, reached to his pocket, and ripped out his pistol, quickly placing it to the driver's forehead, "Okay, so we lied. Out."  
The driver raised his hands, "This is stupid."  
"Shut up. Out."  
Peter and Miles exchanged a look, and grabbed their weapons as the driver stepped out of the car. Suddenly, the rear door flew open and two more soldiers came out, prepping to fire their guns. The first met the side of Mile's blade, and the second met Peter's fist, as the driver had an up close and personal session with Lance's pistol.  
Lance smiled, "Not exactly the plan… but… well… uniforms."  
A few minutes later, the redressed group was driving away, leaving three hog-tied soldiers in their wake.  
  
***  
  
The ragtag group silently stepped through the prison's main doors. The guard at the door gave them the once-over; "I haven't seen you around before."  
Lance looked up, "We're the transfers. First day."  
The guard frowned, "I didn't hear anything about that."  
The three shared a look with each other, and Miles picked it up, "Strange."  
That seemed to satisfy the guard, he shrugged, "Okay. Welcome aboard. Head on up to the control room for your assignment."  
Peter played along, "Where is that?"  
The guard grinned, "Just go up."  
They all nodded, and started up the stairway.  
  
***  
  
The supervisor didn't notice the differences that the trio presented, and just assumed the usual, "Okay you three, you're on control room today. Lucky you." He motioned to the other guards in the room, "You're off duty."  
They all nodded and left. Miles, Peter and Lance quickly filled in the positions of the guards, so as not to seem ignorant.  
They were alone now, with the lone supervisor standing over a computer screen. As the man looked away, they all turned to each other, and nodded.  
Lance was closest to the door. He reached back and hit the button as Miles and Peter approached the officer. As the door slammed shut, the man looked up, "What in the…"  
He shut up quickly as two cold barrels were placed against his head, "Just who do you think you are?"  
Lance grinned and ripped off his facemask, extending his hand to the officer's, "Lance Derikson, nice to meet you. These are my companions, Miles and Peter Animus." The officer held a noticeable look of shock as Lance continued, "And you… are unconscious." Lance smiled and waved goodbye as Miles lifted and swung the gun barrel across the officer's head, knocking him to the ground, out cold.  
"Okay," Lance said, "Now to figure out where our friends are."  
"Can I?" Peter asked, stepping forward. Lance nodded, and Peter stood at the computer terminal, rapidly entering words and phrases. The screen flicked and buzzed at speeds almost incomprehensible to any normal person. Miles gave up on figuring it all out, and Lance watched intently.  
After a moment, Peter nodded, "Got it. Level seven. Cell 18."  
Lance grinned, "Nice job. Do we know where their weapons are?"  
Peter nodded again, "Long-term storage, check the cabinet behind you."  
Lance turned and saw a large file cabinet, "Gotcha." He grabbed the handle and pulled, but it failed to open. He cursed and smashed it with his fist, "Damn! It's locked."  
Behind him, Miles coughed. Lance spun around to see Miles holding the officer's keys, "You think these could help?"  
Lance smirked, rolled his eyes, and snatched the keys, inserting them into the lock and turning swiftly. The cabinet came open and a small supply of weapons came out. Noticeably, Neos' Battleaxe and a rifle suitable for Julia.  
Lance grabbed them and grinned towards his companions, "Set."  
Peter nodded, "Okay? Are we still following the original 'wreak as much havoc as possible' plan?"  
There was a pause, and Lance shrugged, "Yeah, sure."  
Peter nodded, "Okay then, but I think we should secure Julia and Neos first."  
"Agreed." Miles said, "So what's our plan?"  
Peter looked to the keyboard, "Well, once we secure them, I can just hit this button right here, its all set to open the cells. Then, once you guys make it up here, I can lower the facility and we can make our escape through that door." He pointed to the giant steel passageway leading to the other building.  
Lance nodded in agreement, "Okay, but how will we tell you when we get them?"  
Miles turned around and dug through a case, pulling out two headsets. He put one on, and tossed the other to Peter, who slipped it on quickly, "Channel three, dad."  
Miles nodded and switched the frequency over. Lance shrugged and shoulder gripped his assault rifle, slinging Julia's bolt-action on his shoulder with the strap. Miles kept the Dual Hyperion and held out Neos' Battleaxe.  
The duo stepped out the doors, leaving Peter digging for a weapon. He found it in a pair of automatic pistols.  
  
***  
  
Encountering no resistance on their path to floor seven, Miles and Lance shrugged to each other as they stared at the doorway to cell 18.  
Miles spoke softly to the headset, "Okay, Peter, open cell 18 only."  
A few seconds passed, and finally, the door slid open. The light cast upon the two figures within, one was sprawled out on the floor, the other huddled up in a corner.  
Lance stepped into the doorway, and both figures slowly began to stand. Neos was sprawled out, and Julia in the corner. After a few seconds of silence, Neos burst out, "Lance! Is that you?"  
Lance grinned, "You bet your ass, mano."  
Another moment passed, Neos and Julia sighed relief, and tears were visible on the faces of both as they approached Lance in the doorway. Miles finally stepped into view, and Neos jumped back, "Miles! You're here! You're alive!"  
"Yeah," he nodded, "but we don't' have time to catch up. Here." He handed Neos the Battleaxe. Neos gripped the weapon firmly with both hands, slashing up and down, left and right, getting used to the feel of its weight again  
Lance moved to Julia, taking note of the bruises on her face, and offered her the rifle. She looked at him, the rifle, and back at him. Then she reached out and grabbed his automatic.  
"I want something bigger, Lance." She spoke with a menacing determination.  
Lance raised an eyebrow, "Do you know how to use that thing?"  
She glanced at it and cocked the rifle, holding it up in a ready position, "You bet your ass."  
Lance sighed and looked to Neos, who simply nodded at him. Lance grinned, "Whatever you say."  
He placed a bullet into the rifle and nodded to Miles, who grabbed the Dual Hyperion and spoke to the headset, "Peter. Let's go."  
  
***  
  
The alarms sounded loudly as every cell door in the building flung open at the same time. There was a moment of silence, then screaming and cries of joy as prisoners burst out of their cells and into the hallways. Guards scrambled up from their posts to try and contain the mass of people, but they were of little help.  
Miles, Lance, Julia and Neos stepped out of cell 18, their weapons raised and ready to confront whatever came to face them. They entered into a scene of havoc. The prisoners scrambled in whatever directions they could think of; some went up the stairs, some went down. Others were content to watch the madness and see how it all turned out.  
The group of four quickly moved towards the stairwell. Lance took a moment to pause and look down the gap in the center of the area. Guards were making slow progress heading up, and he quickly guessed that guards would be coming from the top too, except from the other building.  
He looked to Miles, "Miles, we got a problem." He pointed downwards.  
Miles took a look, then back at him, and nodded, speaking into the headset, "Peter, watch your ass. You've got guards coming in from the other building."  
The reply came back with interference to spare, "A little late…" Then a burst of gunfire, then silence.  
Miles looked to the others and burst into a run for the stairwell. They all followed suit.  
  
***  
  
Immediately after the cells were opened, Peter caught the movements of the remaining guards in the complex. The ones on the bottom began a progression upwards. He also caught a large group of guards moving from the other building into theirs. Without hesitation, Peter slammed on the button to lower the complex, then ducked behind a console, readying his guns.  
When the soldiers entered the control room, he could hear their footsteps. They stopped, and one spoke.  
"Where are the guards on duty? Where's the commander? Something is wrong…"  
Peter leapt up and fired off a shot to the first guard he saw. It nailed the man directly in the chest, sending him down to the ground. Without hesitation, Peter's other pistol fired twice, hitting another guard in the leg and the chest. The man collapsed in a screaming heap.  
The gunfire came right back at him, so Peter ducked back down behind the console as his father's voice came into the headset.  
"Peter, watch your ass. You've got guards coming in from the other building."  
He rolled his eyes, "A little late…"  
He was cut off as a hail of gunfire came upon the console. He tore of the headset and stepped out to the side firing three rounds into another guard before ducking back. Another guard quickly came around the other side of the console, and had a close encounter with the butt of Peter's pistol, knocking him out cold. He could hear more footsteps pouring in, and cursed before jumping up and taking out three more guards. As he fired the last shot, the pistol in his right hand clicked empty. He ducked down and threw the pistol to the side, jumping out to his left and using a two-handed grip on his other pistol, carefully taking a single shot to one guard's head before ducking back.  
He checked the magazine. He only had one shot left, and there were at least six more guards.  
Suddenly, a rifle shot rang out, and Peter heard a loud thud as a guard hit the ground behind him. He looked to the doorway, and Lance Derikson stood, the rifle smoking. Lance quickly ducked down next to Peter and reloaded as an automatic rifle reported from the doorway.  
A sickening battle cry was heard as Julia Leonheart unleashed an unrelenting hail of gunfire upon the remaining guards. They all went down quickly, shocked by the sudden emergence of such backup.  
There was a pause as the smoke cleared. Julia still held the gun in a position to fire as a clicking sound uttered from the rifle. Lance carefully stood up and walked over to her, placing a hand gently on the gun and her shoulder, lowering the weapon.  
"You got 'em, Julia. Relax."  
She looked at him, her eyes still reeking of blood lust, and lowered the weapon, taking in a deep breath.  
Lance looked over to Peter, who was disturbed by the sudden change in the previously peaceful young girl. He shrugged and looked around, "Okay guys, here's the deal. The building is lowered, cars are just across the way. All we need to do is get there."  
Everyone nodded at the plan and stepped out into the daylight. Behind them, they could hear the rush of prisoners screaming to the top of the building, their freedom in close reach.  
Upon stepping outside, they could hear a sudden hail of gunfire in their direction. Instinctively, the group put their head down, and began to run towards the parking garage. Miles got there first. He flung open the door to a van and flipped the visor down. The keys fell into his hands and he quickly put them into the ignition. The doors came open around him and the others piled into the van, bullets deflecting off of the van itself as the ignition started. Miles shifted the car into drive and slammed his foot on the pedal, sending the vehicle flying out of the garage and into the desert, soldiers still firing rapidly at the blur. Miles saw in the rear view as one car, a second, and a third begin pursuit.  
Lance managed to climb to the front-side passenger seat and looked at Miles, "The ocean is the other way."  
Miles nodded, "I know."  
"Our boat is the other way."  
Miles didn't even nod, "I know."  
"Where the hell are we going?"  
Miles grinned, "I know."  
Lance sighed, and then allowed a curse as bullets crashed against the rear of the van. He looked up at the sunroof, "Anyone wanna take care of that?"  
Miles took a hard turn right, "I will."  
Lance looked forward and saw a train station, complete with train speeding through. Miles kept moving, straight towards the loading ramp. He was lined up and hit the ramp, flying across the ramp and landing on the other side, the train merely yards away. The car behind him tried the same trick, only to be met with a sudden, violent stop as the train slammed into its side. The car folded like a tin can, parts flying in all different directions as it flew to one side of the train, rolling over four times before landing on it's roof and halting.  
The van continued its movement as Miles pulled a quick left and was back on his original path. The other two cars cut around the train and were quickly right behind the van.  
Peter cursed as he saw one car pull right up alongside and a few of the soldiers begin to draw weapons. He looked to the front, "Floor it dad!"  
Miles slammed as hard as he could on the gas, but the other car managed to keep up. Peter groaned and opened the side-sliding passenger door, then looked to Neos, "The axe. Now!"  
Neos handed Peter the Battleaxe, and he quickly thrust it at the other car, slicing away. Metal grinded against metal as sparks flew through the air. The other car began to pull away for a scond. Peter yelled again, "Get closer!"  
Lance gave him a look, and Peter grinned. Miles swung the car to the right, getting back alongside the vehicle. Peter lay prone on the floor of the van and stretched out with the Battleaxe, the blade stabbing into the front tire. The air quickly released itself from its rubber confinement, and the car slammed down onto it's front left side and screeched along towards a halt. A few bullets exited the vehicle and smashed into the rear of the van but were halted by the added armor. For once, the passengers were grateful for the other side's preparation.  
The other car slowed down to assist their comrades, giving up the chase. The group packed in the van paused for a breath, and then erupted into cheers.  
After they had calmed, Lance looked to Miles, "So, where are we going?"  
Miles smiled slightly, "To visit some friends."  
  
***  
  
When the car finally stopped, the passengers, minus Neos and Lance, were asleep. Miles removed the key from the ignition and stepped out into the night, approaching the door. Lance and Neos stayed in the car as Miles knocked. Lance looked around. The house was in the middle of the desert, far from civilization. A small well was a few yards from the front door.  
After a moment, the door opened and an older man with gray hair and a gash across his forehead answered, smiling widely.  
Lance paused for a moment, interrupted by Neos Leonheart jumping out the door and running to great his father. 


	4. The Leonhearts

((Chapter Four! Unlike the others, I'm updating as I write, and with college apps and all, it's taking way too long, but I'm trying. And this story will be finished before the second anniversary of Final Call (June 14th, 2003). Anyway. Enjoy this chapter. It's a bit of a break, and has a nice surprise.))  
  
  
As the sun overthrew the darkness and bought in a rule of light, the sleeping crew awoke inside the house of Squall and Rinoa Leonheart.  
  
Peter shook his head as he spun around and landed his feet on the ground, slowly pushing off of the couch. He had no clue where he was. He took a quick notice of his surroundings. There was the couch, a small coffee table, radio, and lamp. The room was devoid of decoration. He stepped through a door into another room, where he found everyone sitting around a couch.  
  
"Everyone" entailed Miles, Lance, Julia, Neos, and Squall and Rinoa Leonheart. Peter was shocked to see the couple, having slept through the arrival, and through the period when he was carried into the room.  
  
They all looked up at him, and he weakly raised one hand, waving, "Hi."  
  
Squall nodded, "Peter."  
  
Peter stumbled over a few words before Miles stood and guided him to a seat, "We stopped here for the night. We've been discussing the war."  
  
A familiar topic, "The war, right."  
  
Miles laughed as Peter sat, "Yes. The war."  
  
"Actually," Squall said, standing up, "I think I should have a chat with Peter."  
  
Miles looked up, nodded slowly, and then got back to his coffee. Peter struggled back to his feet and followed along.  
  
The couple stepped into Squall's bedroom, and Squall shut the door, approaching Peter, "Peter. Sit down. What I'm about to tell you is very important."  
  
Peter slowly sat on the edge of the bed as Squall shut his eyes and looked down. This pause lasted a moment, before Squall looked up again.  
  
"Okay, Peter. You're going into combat against a sorcerer. A very powerful sorcerer."  
  
Peter nodded, "That's the eventual plan. You going to give me advice?"  
  
"I'm going to give you victory."  
  
Squall slammed his palm to Peter's head. Despite his age, Squall was still quite strong. Though, Peter had little time to consider this, as he was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of energy. The rush lasted a few seconds, and then disappeared. Peter collapsed backwards onto the bed.  
  
Squall effortlessly lifted him up, "Peter Animus, I'd like you to meet Shiva."  
  
-"Hello, Peter."-  
  
Peter shook his head, "A GF?" You gave me a GF?"  
  
Squall nodded, "I know, you probably don't want it, but…"  
  
Peter stood and paced, "I like my memory! My memory is all I have! Damnit, Squall! My mother is dead, my friends are dead, and everything I had has been lost. I don't want to forget them!"  
  
-"You won't."-  
  
Peter yelled upwards, "What do you mean, I won't?"  
  
Squall gripped Peter's shoulders, "You don't need to talk. Just think."  
  
-What do you mean, I won't?-  
  
-"You won't. Once we've familiarized ourselves with each other, I'll unjunction myself. You won't need to activate the link until you face Reist."-  
  
-You can do that?-  
  
-"Yes."-  
  
Peter looked at Squall, "Why not your son? Why not Neos, or Julia?"  
  
"Julia is too pacifistic. And Neos has another role to fulfill."  
  
"Another role? I don't buy into that fate crap."  
  
"You don't have to. You lost a lot more at Lee's hands."  
  
Images of Jasmine flashed through Peter's head as he collapsed back down towards the bed.  
  
"It's the only hope."  
  
Is it?  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"Wait." Peter stood, "Wait one minute. I know my history. Laguna Loire defeated Alexian Harket without a Guardian Force."  
  
"He was in an infirmary at the time. The magic barrier effectively eliminated Harket's powers."  
  
Peter sat again, "It's the only hope."  
  
Squall sat alongside him, "It's tough. The decision I made to continue using GFs was one of the hardest of my life."  
  
"It will help me defeat Alex?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Peter summoned the images of destruction he witnessed. Balamb flashed through his mind again, in its final moments. He slowly nodded, "Okay. Let's do it."  
  
Squall smiled, "Great. First lesson, magic."  
  
  
***  
  
  
"What made you do that?"  
  
Lance Derikson cocked his head to one said, "Do what?"  
  
Julia Leonheart slowly sighed, "Rescue us, Lance."  
  
The two were alone outside the Leonheart's home. They had silently split off from the group in the living room at Julia's invitation. She stood now, leaning against a wall, while Lance kicked some dirt a few yards away.  
  
He paused at the comment, "Why wouldn't we have done it? Rescuing you all was an absolute necessity. If not because you're our friends, because you are huge morale boosters to the resistance."  
  
"Oh that's it? Morale?"  
  
Lance smirked, "No. You are our friends."  
  
"You're so heroic."  
  
"Ah, it wasn't my idea. Miles and Peter decided on it, I just got everything together."  
  
"But I hear you're leading the army now."  
  
"Someone had to. Miles hid himself, and Peter was MIA for a long time."  
  
Julia began to approach him, "Oh, you don't give yourself enough credit."  
Lance raised an eyebrow, silently wondering what game she was playing. He decided to keep her on her feet, "So what was with you in D-District?"  
  
Julia stepped back, "What?"  
  
"Well, normally, you're the pacifist of the group. In the District, you went buck wild. I thought we would have to tie you down."  
  
She went back against the wall, "I…" Slowly, she slid to the ground, sitting, "It was too much."  
  
"Balamb?"  
  
She looked up, her face suddenly streaked with tears, "Yeah. Just, remembering everyone who was killed because… …because of nothing. Murder. Mass murder."  
Lance sighed and approached her, "I know. It's been tough on all of us."  
  
"It's not just Balamb…"  
  
Lance paused again.  
  
"That prison. There were daily torture sessions. Interrogation…"  
  
"Brainwashing?"  
  
She nodded, "And worse." Lance paused, a flood of possibilities in his mind. He dared not push. Julia broke into another fit of crying. Then, as suddenly as it had started, she looked back up. Her face was burning red and a distant fire was barely recognizable in her eyes; "I just wasn't going to take it anymore! There wasn't going to be any more. Not to me, not to anyone."  
  
Lance quickly knelt down beside her, and held her hands, calming her clenched fists. The two pairs of eyes met. Lance spoke, softly, "I'm sorry. We should have come sooner. But it's over now. Now we're going to fight them. We're going to stop them. I promise."  
  
She looked down and sobbed again, but was stopped when Lance silently placed his lips on her forehead. Looking back up, she stared into his eyes, and allowed him to bring his lips to hers.  
  
((Next: WAR.)) 


End file.
